The Disquiet of Quiet

Our adopted daughter, Alison, has been with us for 16 months now. After 15 years of "empty nest" we changed a lot to have a 10 year old girl in the home again. Disney Channel and dance classes. School drop-off and pickup. Soccer, gymnastics, and volleyball. Homework, dirty room, and bath time. And the biggest change of all has been the lack of quiet around the house.

Yesterday Alison left for New York with her oldest sister. This is the first time she will be away without her parents. She will not return until next weekend. I have a whole week of doing what I want to do for a change! No children's television programming. No rushing to daycare. No arguing over the undone chores. A whole week of peace and quiet!

Somehow my mind keeps going back to her. I wonder if she is safe. I wonder if she is handling the long drive OK. I worry about her already. I miss her already too. I miss her smile. I miss her wit and humor. I miss the too loud TV and yelling to turn it down. I miss the good night hug and "good night, I love you, see you tomorrow."

My thoughts turn to her new sister, Emma, who we haven't been able to retrieve from China yet. I wonder if she is safe. I wonder if she is healthy. I wonder if she is thinking about her parents to be as I am thinking about her. I have the advantage—I know who she is and have her picture. She hasn't been told who we are yet. I wonder what will go through her mind when she finds out. I wonder what is going through her mind as she waits.

It is warm and muggy outside, 81 degrees. I look online for the weather in Zhu Hai where Emma is. Eight-one and muggy. The same as it is here. Coincidence I know, but it seems to be just one more "red thread" that ties us together even while we are half a world apart.

Somehow that peace and quiet I was looking forward to seems to be disquieting. Come home safe and soon, Alison. Come home safe and soon, Emma. Home means family. Come home so my heart can have some peace and quiet.